


Five Times Phil Coulson Made Daisy Johnson Feel Like She Was Home (Safe and Loved)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Light Bondage, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Romance, Shower Sex, Sokovia Accords, mentions of Hive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8518360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: It's scary, because he is "almost" everything to her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



**one.**

“There’s only three of them. You can take them.”

She hears Coulson’s chuckle through the comms. “I think you’re overestimating my fighting prowess, Agent Johnson.”

Daisy smiles as she keeps clearing her side of the building. It’s all of it - the sound of him laughing, the way he teased her saying _Agent Johnson_ (she is not technically an “agent” but Coulson keeps treating her like one), and the slightly flirty yet innocent tone of the word “prowess”.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replies in kind. “I’ve seen your prowess, you can definitely take out three unsuspecting guys.”

“I can’t, but my left arm can,” Coulson says, and goes quiet as he approaches the guarded spot.

When they meet after the mission, back in the plane, Coulson is half-out of breath, but safe and unscathed.

“See? Told you, you could take three,” Daisy says and slaps his arm in a fellow-soldier fashion.

Coulson smiles at her. He grabs a couple of beers and offer to keep Daisy company while both of them come down from the adrenaline of the mission.

“You still have some time,” he says, acknowledging that she has to go back to her own mission, a mission SHIELD can’t help her with right now.

She nods at him and they drink the beer in silence. It’s nice, but she gets thinking about how his voice sounded on the comms, his gentle teasing. As she sips slowly, to make the drink last, she realizes it’s the first time she feels like staying here, instead of going back.

 

**two.**

“Sorry,” she says, rubbing her eyes.

She knows she can’t get comfortable - her visits to the Playground are still always temporary and she can’t pretend otherwise. Making herself home will only hurt her.

But it’s hard to move. Coulson’s shoulder is warm and she can feel his heart beating close. He had invited her to watch some movie in the common area, to take a breather before going out there on the streets again, as things were getting worse for Inhumans and she had more and more to do. _You’ll make mistakes if you’re too exhausted_ he had told her as way of convincing him.

She must have probably dozed off immediately, because she doesn’t remember anything of the movie they were supposed to watch. She just remembers feeling warm and safe and content for the first time in ages, like she was allowed to forget about the world for a moment.

“Sorry,” she repeats. “Did I get drool on you?”

Coulson shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” he says.

He wraps his arm around her, touching his fingers to the back of her neck, stroking softly. Daisy makes a sound - which she hopes it’s only in her mind. She closes her eyes, sliding closer to Coulson, enjoying the nice massaging motion of his fingers around her nape.

“You know you can stay here as long as you want, don’t you?”

He says it in a way Daisy is not sure if he means SHIELD or right here on the couch, with her head on his shoulder.

She nods.

Of course she knows. That she can stay, as far as he’s concerned. It’s part of the problem. But right now, for a fleeting moment, it doesn’t seem like a problem to her. But her head fights that feeling, because she knows how dangerous such selfish emotions can be.

“I shouldn’t even be here, if they find out SHIELD is harborning-”

“We’ll handle it,” Coulson says, his hand still stroking her neck.

“I don’t want you guys to get hurt because of me,” she tells him.

“We made that choice, I - SHIELD chose to stand behind you. It’s what we want.”

She nods and presses her cheek against the fabric of his shirt again.

 

**three.**

She can’t believe he’s letting her do this.

She never thought anyone would let her do this. Or listens to her reasons about why she wanted this now.

“Am I hurting you?” she asks, surprised by how loud her voice sounds. She remembers, relieved, that there are no people around the cabin for miles and miles and miles.

Coulson shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says, gesturing for Daisy to go on.

She slips the tie around his wrists a little tighter, securing the knot around the headboard of the bed.

“But you still can get free anytime,” she says, wanting to confirm.

He nods. “That’s half the fun,” he says and smiles at her charmingly.

Daisy dips her head, kisses him softly while she finishes tying him up. It’s been like this all weekend, soft, hesitant kisses between them, since they had had to seek refuge here in the safehouse following a mission gone wrong. At some point they stopped licking their own wounds (nothing big, bruises, scratches, her sprained ankle) and started licking each other. And then - in front of the fire, drinking bad wine somehow forgotten here for years - they had started talking about this. Well, she talked. Coulson listened. She even talked (necessary to explain this desire) about what Hive had done to her, for the first time.

“Aren’t you shocked?” Daisy asked, running her hands over his chest, feeling the warm beating under his shirt and her palm.

“Believe it or not we had bondage back in the old-timey days,” he teases her.

But that explains why he seems so chilled.

“So you like this stuff?” she asks, needing the reassurance that he still wants to do this.

“Generally or do I like it because I’m with you?”

“Both is good,” Daisy says, remembering an old internet meme and getting some confidence back.

She kisses him some more, taking her time, watching him grow restless under her mouth and under the lazy circles she is drawing on his stomach. She likes that they are both dressed, but even under his clothes she can tell how sensitive he is.

“I’m sorry I can’t have sex with you yet,” she says, feeling bad about disappointing him after two days of fooling around and really great makeouts in the kitchen. 

“I think we’re having sex right now,” he jokes, light.

Daisy smiles. “This doesn’t count, I’m a Catholic school girl. Didn’t you have those back in the day?”

She is close enough that Coulson can reach and slide his mouth over her neck for a moment.

“Oh yeah we had those…”

Daisy smiles some more at the slightly tickling feeling of his mouth under her ear. She drops her hand to his jeans. Coulson groans against her skin, and for a moment she is afraid she is hurting her, but he groans again, the noise unmistakable (hey, it’s been a long time, but not _that long_ ).

“Are you…?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

He wiggles his hips a bit, trying to get Daisy to touch him some more. She thinks about how strange it is, to think that she is making Coulson feel like this, that he is aroused _for her_. He might not be how she pictured one of her lovers to look like, but he is a good guy and she is not that surprised this has happened, and anyway no one else would understand. 

She undoes the buttons on his jeans and slips her hand under the waistband of his boxers. Coulson struggles a bit against the restraints, but not enough that he would loosen it.

“Still okay?” she asks him, kissing his temple softly.

She needs to make sure, that’s the whole point of it. Duplicate this, but making sure Coulson, unlike her, has a choice. Getting something back, but not by taking something away from him.

She watches his lazy smirk.

“Very… much… okay,” he breathes, almost overwhelmed by anticipation. He looks raw and trusting and Daisy envies him a bit.

She is afraid of getting close like this, but not for the usual reasons - no, at some point she gave those up, not knowing exactly when, but knowing that this feeling like she is cursed, like she going to put Coulson in harm’s way, is no longer strong enough to make her push him out of her life. But giving him this as well is scary. He has always been so important to her, almost her everything. The only time in her life someone was _everything_ to her it destroyed her. But with Coulson is the opposite to that, she gets to choose to give him everything, she is not forced to. And she will give him everything. One day. Not today.

She wraps her fingers around his cock, feeling his heartbeat in his hand.

“I love you, Daisy,” he says, breathless and so earnest. Isn’t he afraid? She has always been afraid of saying I love you. She has always been afraid of feeling so much that she’d have to say it. Of losing control.

She strokes him slowly at first. But he is so responsive she can’t help but pick up the rhythm just to watch him squirm on the mattress. This benign sort of power over someone else. She was right when she brought it up, this was going to make her feel good. _That’s all I want_ , Coulson had said. _To make you feel good_. Guys always say that and it’s usually bullshit. But Daisy believed him when he said it.

“Does this feel good?” she asks, because she wants that too.

Coulson nods. “Yes. You?”

“It’s good,” she replies, closing her lips around the line of his jaw. An accurate answer would be more complicated than this, but the pleasing buzz running through her whole body as she gets Coulson off like this is truthful enough.

“Are you close?” she asks, feeling him become more restless. This is the most talkative she’s ever been in bed, she swears.

Coulson half-closes his eyes, struggling to get the word out.

“Yea- _Yes_.”

This is hot, she thinks, watching his lips part and tremble, something inside her breathing freely for the first time since… well, _since_.

He comes in her hand, hot and heavy, panting into Daisy’s neck until the pants become whispered words about how lovely she is and how much he loves her. She was not prepared for that and doesn’t know how to react, so she just holds Coulson, who can’t hold her back, until he rides out his orgasm. She doesn’t take her hand away, stroking him gently even now, not wanting to lose the connection.

 

**four.**

“I need a shower, a meal, and…” she looks him up and down, dropping the bag on the floor of the safehouse. She knows she’s late and he looks like he has been waiting for her - worried for hours, probably, but making sure it doesn’t show on his face as not to burden her. 

“Which want do you want _first_?” he asks with a flirty look.

“Do you have to ask?”

He smirks, smug like a young boy. It makes Daisy want to run her fingers through his hair, just to mess it up.

She grabs his hips and backs him against the couch. In a moment they are on it and Daisy is pinning Phil down to it, attacking his mouth as she guides his hands to the zipper on her jeans.

Knowing that this is strictly clandestine (what they are doing is, as of a couple of months ago, thanks to legislation to prevent the “spread of the Inhuman disease”, technically a crime) doesn’t turn her on at all, but she needs Phil so much and so _right now_ that all the danger and the ugliness of the world can’t manage to put her off either, even if her skin smells of that ugliness, of days and days fighting it, but fighting in it.

Phil’s skin smells like he has been waiting for her. He has changed clothes for her, and is wearing something different to what he wears on a mission. Daisy holds him at a distance for a moment, straddling his hand between their bodies, to look at his lovely, clear eyes. He is looking at her like he knows how much she has missed him these past few weeks. Daisy wants to crack a joke about how presumptuous that is, but she can’t bear to show embarrassment for how much she needs him. In a moment he has managed to get his hands inside her pants, pushing her underwear aside and two finger into her. She curls her whole body around his touch and it feels to her that they have been separated a lot longer than they actually have.

 

Shower next. Phil strokes the tender spot on her nape like a memory softly breezing through her body. She lets him wash her hair and body, holding onto his shoulders lazily.

“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing her unusual attitude. Normally the shower part is her favorite.

She shrugs.

“I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re allowed to feel tired,” he tells her. It’s a little thing, it’s stupid, it’s just words - what are words in this world? But hearing them makes Daisy feel a tiny bit better. No one before Phil ever told her she was allowed things. “But remember, the world is good.”

She fixes him a look. 

“How can you believe that?” 

He grabs her face in his hands, brushing off the wet strands of her sticking to her cheeks and forehead. He looks at her in a way that she has missed more than anything, all these weeks on the road, on one long continuous mission.

“Because we found each other, and you’re here with me,” Phil tells her.

She can only hold his glance for a moment, but Daisy knows he’s right, because she feels the same.

“You’re such a sap.”

She presses a smile against his shoulder, turning away until she is against the glass. Phil kisses her back as he rubs his half-erection against her ass until he’s hard enough. She welcomes the familiarity, how her body remembers even after weeks and weeks of not seeing each other, how her body immediately knows she’s safe and her muscles relax completely once he is inside her.

“Phil, please…” she asks.

She wonders if he knows what she is asking for, if he understands. She wants him to fuck her so hard that she can still feel him for days, taste and smell him, so that when she comes back to the ugly world and the ugly fight, she will carry him with her for a while.

“I love you,” she says, now that she is no longer afraid of such a thing. Instead: she thinks she should have said it more often, back when it didn’t sound like a prayer, like desperation.

 

Afterwards he fixes them both some dinner; some pasta and a wonderfully simple and pungent sauce. Daisy’s hair smells of oregano afterwards. Well, mostly because Phil keeps threading his fingers into it, waiting for it to dry on the palm of his hand.

When she puts the first bite of food into her mouth she can’t help but smile. 

“Thank you,” she says. It tastes amazing.

He shakes his head softly, the smile makes the edges of his mouth wrinkle, showing his age despite his otherwise youthful face. Daisy likes that he looks old. He looks like she feels, but it’s not something bad: it’s a gentle feeling.

They eat in silence, too hungry and too tired to speak, but happy to share the silence anyway, the same way they would share words.

Daisy takes his hand in hers. Her fingers find the rough surface of his synthetic skin, after months and months of not having had any check-up on the prosthetic (there are other priorities, she guesses). 

She still needs him with a raw need, but the desperation is gone, as if the shower had washed it away from her skin.

 

**five.**

“Sorry,” she says, disoriented, because she has no idea how long she’s been asleep. 

She lifts her head from his shoulder and Phil is looking at her with amusement. Has he been watching her sleep? Wow, pathetic, he really has it bad, she thinks, smiling.

His shirt is all wrinkled on the spot where she was resting her head.

“Did I get drool on you?” she asks.

“Yes, but I’m used to it,” Phil teases her.

She rolls her eyes and sits up on the couch, letting him slip his arm around her shoulder comfortably. The movie is still on, she realizes, looking at the tv screen, so at least she didn’t sleep for ours. She can’t remember what they were supposed to be watching (she suspects the movie was just an excuse to make out with her on the couch of the base, like it’s been a fantasy of his or something), only that it had Steve McQueen and there were car chases.

Phil starts stroking the back of her neck. Daisy can feel his whole body humming with contentment and she feels a bit sad for him, how open he is, how he wears his heart on his sleeve. She wouldn’t want to change that, but it makes her think of him as something vulnerable and to be protected. Silly, because he is the strongest person Daisy has ever known, but she still wants to shelter from harm. She could never do that, especially not from harm that came because of her.

“It still feels weird, being back,” she admits, giving the room in the Playground a look. Mistrust of home is still one of her strongest superpowers. “Like it’s going to be taken away any moment now.”

“It’s not,” Phil says, all casual, his eyes on the tv screen.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not,” he admits, turning to look at her. “But if they take it away again, we will fight again. And we always win.”

Daisy nods. “Yeah, we always win.”

She’s won. She knows this. Even if everything goes wrong again, even if they try to take what they have away, this can’t be undone. She can’t unfeel how she feels right now: safe, loved, and yes, stupid and reckless as it is, _happy_. She’s won.

She keeps watching the movie - a mere excuse really, she just wants to make out with him on the couch.


End file.
